Witness
by dramagoddess202
Summary: James is dead. At least, that's what everyone is supposed to think. After bearing witness to a horrific crime, James is forced to conceal his identity and disappear from the life he knows, leaving behind his friends, family, and a chain of unanswered questions. This is the end of James Diamond and the beginning of Tom Johnson. Kogan, Angst, Future!Fic
1. That Night

Every year, thousands of people are admitted into the Witness Security Program, a program intended to protect and preserve the lives of American citizens who have witnessed horrendous crimes which threaten their own livelihood.

Some would say the price is the loss of a life.

James Diamond would say that the price is to sell your soul to the devil, regretfully kissing a life goodbye without any parting words. Clinging onto fame with a few fingers before dropping off the face of the earth. Disappearing without a trace from family and friends.

But with any end, there is a beginning.

This is the end of James Diamond and the beginning of Tom Johnson.

* * *

The club was far too dark and the music, far too loud. James turned his head slightly to look at Logan who had relaxed at the bar beside him. "What're you doing here?" Logan asked in a loud voice, trying to overpower the music.

"Drinking," James held up his short glass and rolled his eyes.

"Jesus, James," Logan muttered with a smile. "How many is that?"

He shrugged, "I don't count. That just ruins the fun."

"Why aren't you dancing? Or with a girl?" Logan scoffed, tapping his fingers on the bar.

"Don't feel like it."

In truth, James needed a cigarette. He craved it. He had convinced himself that if he was going to _live _through this night, he would need to smoke a cigarette. However, he was out of cigarettes, much to his chagrin. And until he got that cigarette he would not get up off of that bar stool. Sure, he could get up and charm a girl until he was able to snatch a cigarette off her, but that would take energy. James Diamond did _not _waste energy on charming girls.

"The one day I can come up from school and spend some time out with you, you are acting all depressed," Logan smirked.

James murmured quietly, "Do you have a cigarette?"

Logan's smile fell, "You know I don't smoke, James. And you shouldn't either."

"I know," he growled. "I thought I'd ask."

Awkwardly looking away, Logan mumbled, "Why don't you have your cigarettes?"

"Because I just don't," James ran his hand over his face. He felt slight stubble across his cheeks bristle his hands. "It feels like withdrawal."

"Because it is," Logan groaned. "Come on. Get off of your ass and get onto the dance floor." He started to pull back on his arm.

James gave into Logan's pulling, stumbling out onto the dance floor. "Look, I really don't feel up to it."

"You're talking like you're old. Join the party," Logan started to hop to the music.

It was one of _those _nights. Normally, James could hold his alcohol and could stay up all night. He'd never be alone. Girl after girl, night after night. That was the pattern that continued for awhile.

But one of _those _nights consisted of him having a few drinks and then feeling like the floor was falling out from beneath him and that his heart was going to explode out of his chest. One of those nights.

In an instant, Logan disappeared. James reached out for his hand to try and compel himself to move a little bit further into the mess of alcohol and glitter, but it was too late. Girls had already started piling themselves around him, making a tight barricade that he could not get out of without stepping on a few nicely manicured toenails. James didn't have the energy. One girl already started to run her hands up his sides and breathe provocative words into his ear.

Her tenacious manner was the kind that James craved. Not tonight. He tried to push her away, but her hands were tightly grasping the sleeves of his black blazer. James took one of her hands and pulled it off of his arm. Looking at her didn't help much. He couldn't actually make out any of her facial features. All that registered was the bleached blonde hair that glowed purple in the black light. The fury behind his gaze turned into seduction. "Hey, you gotta cigarette?" he asked.

She smiled boldly, "Yeah…You want one?"

"Yeah," James jumped at the chance. Adrenaline started pumping through his veins. He was going to get a cigarette. He grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her through the wall of girls.

The girl followed in submission, laughing. She didn't even notice that her hand was practically being crushed in James' grip. "Slow down," she giggled. "My shoes are not meant for running."

When James finally stopped to give the girl a break, they were already at the back exit of the club. James pushed through and let out a deep sigh. The fresh air took away that feeling of suffocation.

She was out of breath and she reached out to him, "You're really _eager_."

"Cigarette."

"Now, slow down a little," the girl smiled. "You don't even know my name."

James blinked once, "That's a prerequisite?"

The girl laughed again, running her hand up James' chest, "I'm Paula."

"Hi," James flashed her his ladykiller smile and then slowly let it contort back into a grimace. "The cigarette-"

"And you're James. James Diamond," Paula tossed her hair.

"Yep," he said, now with his teeth grit.

She contorted her face into a silly looking grin, "I used to listen to you all the time when I was a teenager."

_Used to_. That stung a bit. "Great," James looked away from her, his outstretched hand impatient for the cigarette.

"What're the lyrics? Uh…_If you want it all, lay it on the line. It's the only life you got so you gotta live it big time_!" Paula sang with a cutesy intonation that was infuriating. "You know, I'm an actress."

_Great, another actress_. Women were always trying to get their careers started through James. He didn't know how many times he had heard that one.

He clenched his hand into a fist, frustration flowing through his veins. Irrational, as usual, James pushed Paula up against the wall and forced his lips onto hers in an aggressive kiss. He ran his hands down her sides and felt the cigarette box in the front pocket of her shorts, fished it out and broke away from Paula who reached out with longing in her gaze.

James took out one cigarette and handed it back to Paula who took it almost dejectedly, but let another smile cross her face. He took a blue disposable lighter out of his back pocket, put the cigarette in his mouth, and lit it in one swift motion. Inhaling the toxic fumes made James go rigid in a sensual way.

He breathed out the smoke like fire and he looked down the alley for a moment before Paula caught his attention. "So, what has Big Time Rush been up to lately?"

_Well, let's see_. _Kendall is back in Minnesota, playing professional hockey, Logan is trying pre-med on for size. Carlos decided to become a stunt double. And me, well, I'm partying and fucking girls' brains out._ The last part was incomplete. James had been doing guest staring roles in soap operas and even had a recurring role on a primetime drama. And there were always the endorsement deals and odd modeling jobs. None of that really satisfied him though.

"We're getting older and moving on," James said simply.

"You say that like you're going through a midlife crisis or something," Paula laughed lightly.

Anyone could've said that about James and they would've been practically correct. You couldn't call it a midlife crisis as James was only twenty-five. James wouldn't call it that though. He would defend his actions and laugh off the sympathy and attempted help.

"Anyway," James took another drag on the cigarette and pinned Paula against the wall a second time, "Where were we?"

Even if she was annoyingly peppy, that didn't prevent James from a little fun. He didn't have to listen to her talk. Paula twirled James' brown locks in her fingers and nibbled on his lower lip delicately. He ripped himself away again and sucked on the cancer stick again. "You're good," he murmured.

"I know," she said, slipping her forefingers into his belt loops. Their bodies were flesh on flesh. James could smell a fruity drink on her breath. They were just about to kiss again as James ran his hand down the small of her back and onto her backside, but suddenly there were shouts echoing from down the alley.

James looked up first to see two men yelling at one another. Just another random fight, he thought.

Oh, but how wrong he was.

Paula stood up straighter and turned back to the door to rush back in. Unfortunately, it was locked. She turned back to James with a panicked expression. He responded with a smirk, "Don't worry about it. They're probably drunk and fighting about drugs or something."

Punches were being thrown. He could faintly make out the words. Some things about cash and lies and women. Stuff James dealt with on a day to day basis. Paula pulled on his sleeve, "Come on, let's go."

"Shhh…" James silenced her and listened more closely.

"I know you killed her," the first man said, a shorter man in all black. "You think that you and Gary can just get away with that shit?"

The second man pushed the other against the wall and growled, "What are you gonna do about it?"

"That's not your only crime," he spat back. "You've got robberies, drugs, those rapes…"

"Oh my god," Paula murmured.

"You're not threatening me, are you?"

"I am," he gritted his teeth in response. "I'm gonna go to the police, you're not getting away with that too, Chris."

The reply was gruesome. The second man, Chris, reached into his coat and pressed the barrel of a pistol to the other man's head. "Please, don't kill me, Chris. Chris, you can't."

"You should've thought about that before you started talking like you owned the goddamned world." With that, Chris pulled the trigger.

While James wanted to look away, it was one of those things where you just had to watch and see what happened. The power and the thrust of the bullet. He swore he felt blood spatter his forehead. He regretted it immediately and turned away feeling his gut churning. He'd always had a weak stomach.

James vomited once past his shoes and groaned, "Fuck." Paula held him by the shoulders, still scared stiff.

"Who's there?"

They both looked up.

"Who the hell is there?" they heard Chris start to approach, his boots colliding with the pavement.

Paula yanked on James' sleeve, "Come on!"

He shushed her quickly before ducking into the doorway, "We can't. We gotta wait." Paula ignored him though and bolted down the alley, revealing herself to the gunman.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?!" Chris shouted after her and began to run, with his gun posed in front of his body. It wasn't long before Paula lost her concentration and balance in her tall stilettos and was forced to slow down. She was made an easy target. Tears were streaming down her face, ruining her makeup. Her desperate pleas to God were in vain.

Chris shot at her three times. Two hit her between her shoulder blades. She fell backward, frozen in time. James gasped, "Shit."

All he had wanted was a cigarette. This was way more than he expected.

The gunman stopped and scanned to see if anyone else was around. James clung to the door, hoping Chris would pass over him. The footsteps got closer and his breath became shallower. Chris walked past, leaving James to sigh in relief.

But he quickly returned, "I can hear you breathing." Chris started to reload the gun.

Watching with wide eyes, James sucked in his lower lip. He was desperate for a miracle. It seemed that Chris had gone out of sight again, but James knew better.

"Gotcha."

The man appeared from behind the wall. James screamed. The gun was in his face. So close to death, so much adrenaline. He reached out and pushed back, making the gun misfire. James threw a punch into the man's face and disoriented him for a few seconds, buying James time to run. He didn't get far before Chris grabbed onto James' mussed hair and pulled him back.

"I knew you looked familiar," he snarled and threw him on the ground. Chris stood over him and positioned his gun toward his head, "Maybe you'll get a lot of little girls standing outside with candles when they find out you're _dead_."

James was running out of time. The seconds passed by like years as he tried to figure out a way to get out of it. Unlike in the movies, his life didn't flash before his eyes. There wasn't time to think about that. He was focusing on keeping that life together. So he threw his leg up and kneed Chris in the groin.

They threw punches and kicks, felt bruises. The gun was left unprotected in his hand. James was able to hit the gun out of his opponents hand and escape.

Sprinting down the alley, James passed Paula's body and got a glimpse into her lifeless, brown eyes. He didn't have time to care, muttering, "Shit."

Chris gained his senses, spat some blood from his mouth, and aimed again.

The first shot missed, but the second lodged itself in James's right shoulder. He howled in pain, but didn't stop running until he heard the clicks of an empty gun and the criminal cursing.

"Don't think you're getting away this easy," Chris shouted after him, spit flying from his mouth. "I will find you. It'll be easy. And then I will kill you!"

He didn't know where to run, where to turn. There was no time to breathe or even move except for away. Just run away. A primordial instinct shook him, so he just ran. He thought it would be that easy, to run from him. But James Diamond had no idea how much longer he'd be running—and how his life had just changed forever.


	2. His Fault

_Thanks all for the support on this story. You're all amazing. Keeping reading, reviewing, favoriting, following...and if you're new, welcome to the party! I'm so excited to write it for you. Now, onward!_

* * *

After he couldn't breathe anymore, James stopped and looked back. He was on a quiet, neighborhood street. Away and safe. James' chest was tight with grief and he was out of breath. He picked his phone out of his pocket a dialed Logan immediately. He didn't pick up, though. And so, he left a message.

"Logan. I need help. Please, I was just shot. I'm in the middle of fucking nowhere. Please, please, please call me back, Logan. I don't know…what to do."

God, he wanted Logan to pick up.

What had happened back there he wanted to keep far out of his mind, however it kept sneaking up through all the good thoughts he tried to dust over them. Focusing on Kendall, Logan, and Carlos didn't work. Killing your friends. Focusing on sex didn't work. Paula was killed. And his mom, he felt sad thinking about her.

Everything piled up and it was frightening to think that perhaps Chris was only steps behind him, ready with new bullets and a new focus.

"Sir?"

James jumped and shouted some garbled auxiliary commands before turning to see there was a police officer standing in front of him, one with broad shoulders, taller than James, but also exuding a calm demeanor.

"Are you alright?" the policeman came closer, looking at the bloody wound that trailed across James's back.

James flinched back, "No. There was a man—and he—well—everything just kinda—" He was stuttering through his words, confused and incoherent.

Finally, the policeman was able to get some portion of the story out of him, enough to help James retreat to the police car and be driven to the hospital where they were met with a few squad cars and several investigators. There were murmurs of the words murder and the name of the club which he couldn't quite remember. Cigarettes and a dead girl. Words now just poured from James' mouth and he _almost _cried. His wound was examined and sewed up quickly, a minor injury, but nonetheless, painful. He relayed Chris' words, which garnered a few exchanged looks between the investigators and even the doctors who managed to flit through the room unnoticed.

"Look, can I go home now?" James asked, the wound stitched and the story told. "I'd really just like to not think about this."

"I think you'd be safer here, for now…" one of the investigators trailed off with a sullen smile.

"I was just with my friend. Logan. Logan Mitchell, you know the smart one. We're part of Big Time Rush," he croaked. "I can call him. He can pick me up if you think—"

"This situation is more dire than you think it is, Mr. Diamond," the investigator continued.

"Big Time Rush…the famous band? You know," he cleared his throat. "_If you want it all, lay it on the line. It's the only life you got so you gotta live it big time…_" He swore he tasted blood in his mouth as he sang the lyrics. He lurched forward, "Please, just let me—"

The investigator bent forward and put his hand on James's shoulder, "Mr. Diamond, you must remain here until we get the entire story and the background checks."

James didn't reply, melting into his chair and waiting. He stayed put for three hours. Waiting, a doctor near him monitoring his condition and also keeping him still. And thinking. Each moment he thought about the blood and the sweat. Two dead bodies and a deep gash in his shoulder.

It was horrifying.

He didn't even have the sanity to examine the female doctor who was flirting every once and awhile with him.

Someone opened his door in the wee hours of the morning as he sat dumbstruck.

"Mr. Diamond," a man in a suit approached James with a grim gaze.

Another suited figure, a woman, appeared with a calmer demeanor. She straightened our her skirt, "You are Mr. Diamond, correct?" she asked.

"Yes," James sat up. He didn't even care that they didn't recognize him. He was just glad that suddenly there was a breakthrough or something.

The two suited characters exchanged a look and the man murmured to the doctor attending him, "Will you please give us some time alone?"

The doctor nervously exited the room, holding onto a clipboard of charts and tests. James watched the man leave, feeling his last sort of shield disappear before the suits attacked with questions.

They both ogled him for a moment before the woman slowly said, "I'm agent Brensaw and this is agent Parker," she gestured to her companion and then looked back at James, "Mr. Diamond, we have good reason to believe that your life is in danger."

"Yeah, really," he scoffed, recalling the threats of the thug.

"This isn't a light matter, Mr. Diamond," the man went on. "The man who you've described is a notorious leader is notorious for distributing arms to Colombia and interacts often in tandem with their drug cartels. He is not a nice guy, to put it lightly. You're lucky that you didn't end up like your friends."

"They weren't my friends! I barely knew the girl and I just saw it all happen!" James defensively launched into his argument.

"That's the problem," the man continued. "You saw everything. You are a witness as well as a victim. And knowing the habits of Christopher Alexi, you are also on his hit list. Which means that being in the public eye does not suit your best interests."

James frowned, "I get that. So, what do I do?"

The woman glared at her colleague and cleared her throat, "What  
Agent Parker is trying to say is that…we are recommending that you go on a permanent hiatus from your public life?"

"Meaning?"

"We're recommending you join the Witness Protection Program, in simpler terms," Agent Parker glared back at Agent Brensaw.

James shook his head, "Isn't that basically like…getting rid of-"

"Erasing you. You disappear from existence as you know it and show up in a different part of the country with a different identity, considering your prevalence in modern culture," Agent Parker spouted off the information as if he were a pamphlet.

James did not know how to respond to this. He was angered, but also dismayed, without a real place to turn to. "Well, how exactly are we supposed to do that?"

"New name, new hair, new place…it won't be easy or perfect, but at least you'll be out. And alive," Agent Parker frowned. "Now, we're going to take you to the agency and we'll have you set up within the next week."

"Can I go…pack or something? Say goodbye, and stuff."

Agent Brensaw looked to Parker who was staring at his shoes, "I'm afraid we can't let you do that."

"Huh?"

"James Diamond has to disappear."

If he weren't in this situation, James would swear she was a mechanical monster out of a horror movie. The way she spoke and her calm demeanor.

"You're dead. In simpler terms. No one can know that you're alive because Chris Alexi and his cohorts will be able to get his hands on you."

Stunned, was the only way James could explain how he felt at that moment. These agents were telling him he would never lay eyes on Logan, Kendall, Carlos, his mother, whoever the hell he was thinking of at the time. He would never actually speak to them again. Because he had been in the wrong place at the exact wrong time. "No, I'm gonna go see my friends and then you can take me wherever the fuck you want, but I'm gonna…" James stood up. He was clearly drunk with tiredness and maybe getting hungover, "Gonna see them. Okay." He started walking toward the doors and both agents stepped in front of him.

However, James suddenly took a turn. He bolted, pushing Brensaw aside and rushing down the hallway. There were two other agents standing at the door and they went after him. It was a high speed chase. James was almost out of energy though and he felt like his limbs were tingling. He could only compare it to feeling like spaghetti.

Parker quickly caught up to him and grabbed the tail of his shirt which was now untucked, "James!"

James tripped over his feet and fell onto the linoleum. Doctors and nurses watched as Parker bent down and helped James up, "They already know, James."

"What?"

"People already know. Consider yourself dead."

* * *

Logan wasn't worried about James. He could take care of himself and he had established that over the years. He'd ditch the boys in a split-second if there was a girl starting to hang off his shoulder.

He walked back to James' apartment where he was staying, hoping he could find James in a cloud of smoke with only a few cigarettes left in a pack. At least he'd be there. What he found instead, thought, was frightening. There were two men standing at the door. Not threatening, but dower and looming. "What's going on?" Logan went up to the door with an extra key poised between his fingers.

"Logan Mitchell?" one of them stepped forward.

Logan could now see the door was cracked open and he could hear people walking around the apartment and talking. "Yeah, that's me."

"We…have some bad news for you."

"What?"

The other man pushed the door open and ushered Logan in. James' lush apartment was left almost completely untouched, as they had left it when Logan had arrived that evening with his duffel. "Will you tell me what's going on?" he looked between the others in the apartment who seemed to be looking for something. "How did you get in here?"

"We're law enforcement, Mr. Mitchell. The two of us are part of the CID."

"Mr. Mitchell," the first one spoke again. "Please, sit."

Logan couldn't be completely sure if these people were all who they were made out to be, but at that hour, he wasn't willing to verbally spar with anyone. He did as he was told and sighed, "Please, what's going on?"

"James Diamond was found dead earlier tonight in a back alley off of Hudson."

Logan didn't breathe for a few moments. He didn't know how to react. The processes in his brain were slowing down. The neurons weren't firing properly or the neurotransmitters weren't being…transmitted. He was at a complete loss.

"After interviewing some people who had seen him exit a club on Weber, we found out you were with him at the time."

"What happened?" Logan choked out. His throat was dry.

"He was shot three times in the back and then run over by a car. Definitely a planned attack. We are currently trying to gather more evidence."

Logan shook his head, "No. No, I was with him. He walked out. I saw him go with a woman."

"Yes, she is also dead. This is a most unfortunate situation, I'm so very sorry for your loss, Mr. Mitchell. However, we do need to question you if that's alright."

Standing, Logan nodded, "Just a moment please." He stumbled into the bathroom, where it looked like they had put a few of James' used Q-Tips in a baggie. He closed the door and then picked his phone out of his pocket.

One missed call. One voicemail.

"Logan. I need help. Please, I was just shot. I'm in the middle of fucking nowhere. Please, please, please call me back, Logan. I don't know…what to do."

Logan leaned against the wall and finally cried. He understood now. It was all his fault.

James was dead. At least he was to him.


End file.
